Getting Rid of Bradley by Jennifer Crusie

have
    dropped a small fortune on the front doors alone, and from what I can see from the front, the windows
    are locked, too.”
    “Oh, they are,” Lucy said, eager for a change of subject. “Even the attic windows. Did they really cost a
    lot?”
    “So they weren’t your idea.” Zack looked satisfied. Smug, even. “Bradley ordered them, right?”
    “No. It was my sister.”
    His satisfaction disappeared. “Your sister was afraid you’d be robbed?”
    “No, my sister hates my ex-husband. She did it to annoy him. She said it was to keep him from taking
    anything out of the house that I might possibly be able to strip him of in the divorce. My sister plays
    hardball in divorce court.”
    “I bet she does,” Zack said, taking out his notebook again. “And when was this?”
    “Oh, she had them put on as soon as I told her about...the blonde. I mean, within the hour, the locksmith
    was here with a crew. That was about two weeks ago.” Lucy thought back. “The end of January.”
    Zack went out to the vestibule. “Do you have burglar alarms?” he called back to her.
    “No.” Lucy followed him. “Look at this place. Does it look like it needs a burglar alarm?”
    Zack glanced around the high-ceilinged hall. “It’s not bad. It’ll be nice when it’s fixed up. So, for
    protection, you’ve got the locks and the dogs.” He looked down at the three dogs who had followed
    them to the vestibule and were now sitting in a row, watching him.
    “Don’t make fun of my dogs,” Lucy said.
    “I’m not making fun of your dogs. Dogs are a good deterrent for thieves. They make noise. Thieves hate
    noise. Killers aren’t crazy about it, but they’ll cope.”
    Lucy folded her arms. “Nobody is trying to kill me.”
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    Zack spread his arms wide. “Look. Humor me, okay? Just in case somebody really is trying to get
    you?”
    “Who would want to get me?”
    He cocked his head at her. “Well, ex-husbands have been known to go after the wives who locked
    them out of their houses.”
    “Bradley didn’t want this house. He signed the divorce papers without a fight. He didn’t want the house
    or me.” Lucy stopped. “Sorry about that last part. I’m not really that pathetic, it’s just that—”
    “You’re not pathetic at all.” Zack flashed his grin at her. “Bradley, however, must be an idiot.”
    “Thank you,” Lucy said.
    “You’re welcome,” Zack said. “Now stay inside.”

    Zack walked around the house, checking the windows and the back door. The basement door was in
    the back near the neighbor’s alley on the right, an old-fashioned, sloping wood door that had two metal
    bars across it, both with locks. The locks, like every other one he’d seen on the house, were very new,
    very efficient, and very expensive. Sister Tina either hated Bradley a whole lot or really worried about
    Lucy.
    And possibly she had a reason to be worried. Zack frowned at the scratches on the basement-door
    lock. He was peering into the lock with his penlight when someone screamed at him, startling him so
    much that he dropped the light as he spun around.
    “I’ve called the police so you might as well run off like all those other young punks,” she screeched. “Go
    on. Go on!”
    “Damn it, lady, you scared the hell out of me!”
    The gray and wizened woman on the back porch of the next house was hunched over the rail in a
    nothing-colored coat three sizes too big for her. Her clawlike hands waved at him while the pleats of skin
    on her face worked soundlessly for the moment in indignation. Then her voice came back.
    “Get out,” she screeched. “Smart-mouthed good-for-nothing!”
    “Excuse me, ma’am,” Zack said, gritting his teeth. “I was startled. I’m a police officer.”
    “Well, if you are, the world’s in worse trouble than I thought, and I thought it was in the toilet.” She
    stared at him viciously, and Zack wondered